Counterpart Newcomers
by iC i e l
Summary: Rejected Machinima textures, their life, and what they do when newcomers arrive. Rated M for blood, gore, and eventual POpcoRN. Collab with DarkIceClaws' "Trick and Treat"
1. Target Sighted

**Alright, let's cut straight to the point. **

**Disclaimer : I do not own the real characters that these "texture" characters represent. **

**R&R Please~**

**If this chapter really does bore you, you can sneak a peek into the second and third chapters, where the horror and the reason this story is rated M will be obvious. Be aware of the blood, torture, and other violence that occurs in those chapters and beyond. SRSLY. The first chapter always sucks when I make them! DX  
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**Chapter One : Target Sighted**

The beginning of October, the scariest month, creators from every area begin to design their characters for the upcoming Machinima auditions. Everybody wanted to get in, either by their voices, their skills, their special talents, or for their own popularity and personal reasons.

Machinimas, were basically known as videos created by people. In the videos, characters, inanimate objects, and stages as well as their backgrounds, had things known as textures over them.

They would color over hair, over clothing, and even change skin color and eye colors. They made them dark, depressing, and scary to fit the Halloween themed videos.

Streaks of blood, practically just painted red, would stain clothes, fur, and faces. Covering textures in 'zombie'-like skin, or making pieces of flesh look missing, as a blob of crimson would cover the spot that would usually have clothing.

Some characters were modified, removing capes, shirts, overalls, hats, and even making textures completely nude. The easiest target would be a zombie Samus, as everyone wants to see _her _naked. Besides the full nudity, everything else being modified usually made the texture much more presentable to the Machinima judges.

Ah, how close the auditions were, to those aiming to get their name known.

Pathetic textures were rejected, good ones were accepted, that's how it's always been in this dog-eat-dog world. Rejected ones were thrown away, deleted, and never used or thought of again. Their purpose? To take over a physical appearance.

Textures could make anyone ugly, beautiful, or just plain funny-looking. They made you look fierce, sweet, or happy. They could have even made you into someone or something from a different world; the anime, human, and game worlds.

They were mere tools for our amusement, nothing more. Though... No one knew they had feelings, as well.

Not as if creators were to blame. Textures were beings created by modifying an original appearance, usually changing their personalities during the process. This was a method used to create dark versions of characters, such as Dark Link, Dark Samus, and Dark Peach.

These feelings were not listened to. Words that needed to be said were immediately erased from the texture's head, the moment they are given a task. It was as if brainwashing was present, when creating them.

October 18, Machinima texture judging day came, auditions closing, many rejected. A few creators' textures had been granted admission in future videos.

As suspected, the majority of videos were made to be published on or near Halloween. Luigi's Mansion and Wolf turned into targets by most Machinimators, thus the spawn of many stage and Wolf textures.

That admission would earn the creator of the texture fame for the video, and copies of the texture would either be sold at a high price or distributed for popularity to spark up. Rumors of "shitting bricks" if you saw the texture would spread, becoming even more attention-grabbing.

While the creator boasts, the texture follows what is told to do in the Machinima, wrap around someone and do as the someone wishes. Those textures, Non Failures, would move up, while the rejected are dumped away to what was known by them as the Alternate World.

The Alternate World, where all the unwanted textures dwell. It functioned just like other worlds, with buildings of bricks and wood, streets paved with asphalt, and a plain ground landscape.

This world consisted of only thirty-five residents; greatly underpopulated for a place that worthy of people.

Creatures in the area did not socialize regularly, and often fought one another when spotted. Independent textures roamed the whole land freely, and carelessly.

Since few textures actually needed food to survive, there were not many shops or buildings around. Trees covered areas that structures should have been on, oxygen was unheard of as textures didn't need to breathe, and temperature in the AW was eternally 76 degrees Fahrenheit.

Cloaks of darkness were wielded by every texture, helpful to hide identities from others, may they be comrades or foes. Those cloaks were simply known as CODs. They were made out of pure darkness, and no one knew who made them.

A boring place, in honest thoughts. The only excitement came from the fights that happened during the day or night, especially when blood could have been shed during it.

But when the thirty-sixth texture came... that was when the real fun could actually begin. The others would all gang up on one, and the death of the newcomer would be their goal.

However... October 31 was the date of the arrival of the 36th, in time for Halloween night.

Cursing, the cloaked texture limped into the forest to the east of the Alternate World. Right on it's tail, two more textures gave chase.

Halting, the first texture nodded to the other, going different directions through the area they knew so well. They planned to corner the newcomer in one area of the forest.

The two textures could only be described as silhouettes; one of Prince Marth Lowell, the other of the miniature Hero of Winds, Toon Link. The mystery texture, though perfectly cloaked in darkness, was obviously in the shape of a kid. This meant only Ness, Lucas, or another Toon Link texture was among the 35.

Countless amounts of trees passed by, all getting caught by the eye because of the moonlight making the leaves shine spectacularly. The textures easily dodged them, rather than getting whipped or snagged by the roots and branches.

The smell of earth made them want to sneeze, but held it in because of the noise it would make. As if the noises of fleeing and chasing like cat and mouse weren't loud enough, as they still kept the chase. It was only when Texture 36 began to get tired, that the chase actually began to lead to something.

Running purely on adrenaline, Texture 36 began to pant harder, slowing down from his original speed. The two behind him were getting progressively closer, not to mention that he couldn't even hear the sounds of them slowing down, or their supposed-to-be-audible panting.

It was only when he heard the rustling of rapid footsteps, that he finally lost concentration. He tripped over a root, foot stuck under it, only way to get out would be to remove his shoes or cut the root. Through the top of the trees, the moonlight began to show.

Groaning at his misfortune, he looked up from his gaze at his trapped foot to look directly into a pair of dark, crimson eyes, glaring at him, three feet away from his face.

The next thing the textures needed to do would be a purely bloody scene. As the population needs to stay as it always has been, one of two things could happen.

Either the acceptance of the new texture would happen, where everyone that inhabited the land would come together and take in the 36th. This obviously happened in previous times, as there used to only be 18 residents in the land altogether. This would make the newcomer a regular in the area, become untargeted, and become yet another of the independent roamers of the land.

Getting accepted, however, was going to be a tough thing to do. The texture would have to fend off three representative textures chosen by all of the textures. Basically, survive the brutal attacks of getting ganged, and you're in. Because of the harsh necessities, most would rather accept their fate and take the latter option.

The latter option, was surrendering to the opposing textures. Putting down his or her weapon, and promising to not do anything that may cause death to anyone or anything, would get the texture a happy ending.

Lies. There's no such thing as a happy ending. The harsh truth, is that the surrendering texture will be tortured, enslaved, made a toy of, and every other option to bring pain, emotionally and physically, and thoughts of suicide to swirl around the texture's head.

Sadly, this was where the texture would be subjected to.


	2. Revealing and Death

**This author's note basically should restate the same thing the disclaimer in the previous chapter stated. Thanks for the previous reviews, how about some for this one, please? Rate and review... or else I'll lack inspiration and motivation to make further chapters...**

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**Chapter Two : Revealing and Death**

The root entangling the texture's shoes loosened, as he was pulled up rather forcefully by a small hand, yet nowhere near the same size of his, and was dropped back onto the floor as soon as the root came off. He was exhausted from his previous run as well as his newfound fear of the people that lived in the foreign land he found himself in.

He backed up against a nearby tree, leaning his back lightly. The splinter he received probably would have bothered him, if he weren't on the brink of unconsciousness. The textures in front of him continued to advance toward him, as he remained half-conscious, and half-unconscious.

Only the faint voice of a conversation reached his ears, before he gave into sleep, sitting up as he lazily closed his eyes.

"So, the idiot finally tired himself out, Tewny?" a voice said with little enthusiasm.

"Yes, Sir Rarth. I'll take the honors of killing him," this voice replied in a monotone, childish voice.

"Take off your cloak, getting it dirty will only give us more work later."

The shorter texture did as he was told, removing the dark cloth covering him. His clothes were seen under the moonlight, as well as his refined skin and eye color difference.

His hair remained light blonde, and his skin color; the same slight tan, the same. His black hat fell to the back of his tunic, which was as well, black. His undershirt was a darker-than-silver gray, and his leggings the same color, and his boots a sinister black. His eyes were a bright brown, pupils still large and resembling a cat. His sword would have been the same, had the hilt not turned white.

Removing his own, Rarth's colors were revealed as well. Skin a little paler than the original, and blood red eyes were the most noticeable, as well as his blue-now-black hair. Oddly, his outfit was the same, except for the black cape with red-painted designs on it. Probably for Halloween...

"Should we confiscate his cloak as well?" Tewny asked, voice beginning to have more emotion.

On sight of the other's nod, he ripped the cloak off of the 36th, grinning a little too big as he imagined the cloak to be the real person underneath. Colors were shown, as the moon ironically glowed brighter at the moment.

A major letdown, as the figure was not Lucas, Ness, or even another Toon Link texture. The man underneath was the pig-raised Wario, in all his fat glory. The two exchanged half-surprised and half-amused looks, before composing themselves once again.

Texture 36's colors were probably meant to resemble Captain Rainbow, as his clothes and everything else besides his face and fingers were colored beginning from red from his feet, and ending at violet at the top of his hat. It would've worked better on Captain Falcon, and would've looked more presentable if it hadn't gotten dirt smudges in it.

A miniature Master Sword hovered over the the hatted head, no signs of resistance coming from the unconscious figure below it. Occasional snores would distract Tewny, as he would lower it and raise it up once again, emitting bored noises from Rarth, who towered over them, waiting.

The raising and lowering of said sword continued for another five minutes, and the other texture was uncontrollably bored by then. The moon had sank, and the sun was now rising. Hating mornings, Rarth decided to end the simple slice that was needed to kill the texture before them.

Grabbing his perfect replica of the Falchion, he gently shoved Tewny over. He stood behind the Wario, positioning his sword at the correct area. Slow movements slurred from left to right, up and down, until he plunged his sword in one swift movement into Texture 36's shadow on the ground.

Waking up abruptly, Texture 36 froze in place, holding back a low scream that threatened to leave his mouth but was swallowed back down. He felt the pain that struck him in the middle of his spine, keeping him completely paralyzed, mouth agape. The two standing before him hid their small smiles by smirking it away, earning a scared look from the inferior below them.

Sadistically grinning, Tewny grabbed the Falchion by it's hilt, still stuck in the shadow, and began twisting it. It twisted and twisted, as it dug deeper into the ground, inflicting unexplainable pain to the owner of the shadow.

Muffled yells of pain and sudden gasps came from the victim, biting his tongue hard. His eyes widened, his mouth tightly closed as if he had lockjaw, and the beads of sweat that formed on his head excited the two killers before him even more. Eventually unable to take the twisting pain, he let out an agonizing cry.

Tewny left the Falchion right where it was, unsheathing his own sword once again with newfound want to murder the Wario texture before him. Inhaling a deep breath, he suddenly leaned forward in front of the texture, showing him a spiky-toothed grin, before his left arm moved in a blur due to speed.

"A cut there, here, over there!" he chanted to himself excitedly as he kept up the flurry of sword strikes all over the body of the 36th texture.

More muffled cries of pain came from the smaller, and Tewny backed away, sword dripping with crimson fluid and dripping to the ground. Rarth, having watched the whole thing, felt like toying with Wario by acting as if he had a bit of pity for the victim, and walked over to him. He kneeled down in front of him, taking his sweaty, midget chin between his hands and pulling up his face to look at him.

"Why are-a you doing this...?" he spoke in ragged breaths, his accent heavily heard.

"Because," he traced his sword's tip against the texture's chest, stopping directly where his heart was. "We absolutely hate you."

With those words, he pressed the tip through the blubbery chest, earning more pained sounds from the texture.

"You're too greedy for you're own good."

With more pressure, two more inches of the blade inserted itself inside, poking at a rib bone. By now, blood was pouring out of the wound in large quantities, and there was nothing Texture 36 could do due to the now-miniature-Master-Sword still lodged firmly into his shadow's spine, yet affecting him as if it were his own spine.

"You're too much of a pig."

The pool of red liquid below the two was beginning to flow downwards to where Tewny was standing, as Rarth dug the Falchion harder and more into the wound, slowly but surely cracking the rib bone through the middle. Immense pain could've made Texture 36 pass out right there, and he wished he would, but he stayed conscious.

"You're the outcast in every World."

Tewny meanwhile, had removed the sword in his back, grabbing it and sticking it through Texture 36's head. Once again agonizingly twisting it slowly and painfully, his eyes flashed red, hearing the terrible moans of pain that erupted from the texture. He would remove the sword, find another area, and stab, stab, stab! All he knew was that this wouldn't cause any physical damage to the real thing, but the pain was real.

"But most of all... you're pathetic."

Another sadistic grin plastered itself over the Marth impostor's face, as the tip of his sword actually touched the heart of the texture in front of him. His eyes darkened with bloodlust, as he moved the sword in a spiral as it pierced through his heart and out his back. His cries were not muffled anymore, and he yelled and screamed to his heart's content at the top of his lungs, the whole forest echoing with his sounds.

The texture didn't understand. The crippling pain that was giving him head trauma but did nothing, the paralyzed feeling he still felt, and the stinging of the minor cuts that covered his whole body from a previous short sword barraging him with attacks. He knew why he was feeling that, but what he didn't understand... was the burning feeling in his stomach.

His heart had been impaled by the sword, but it felt as though the sword were squeezing his heart, rather than actually going through it. Lungs burning, esophagus flaring, he wanted to die right then and there, but suffered instead. Practically going insane, he sat still as pain surged through every part of him.

By the time his heart seemed to quicken and slow down, he had already shut his eyes tight. Sweat and blood dripped down his meaty body, each drop that touched a cut made it sting even more. Eyes still firmly closed, the pain did not stop. Eventually having a seizure, his eyes rolled all the way up, mouth still agape, dripping blood as well. The pain did not stop until his pained lungs stopped inflating, his fractured heart stopping.

It wasn't until Rarth stepped back to watch the disgusting picture in front of him that Tewny withdrew the small Master Sword out of Texture 36's shadow, and he slumped back against the tree painfully as splinters spiked into his wound and the rest of his clothing that wasn't ripped from previous slashes.

Texture 36's cries died down, until they were nothing more than shaky breaths muttering regrets in life that were barely audible except to Tewny, who heard it clearly with his small but still Hylian ears.

"_And I never got to tell them the truth..._"

"_What D&L was really planning..."_

"_The presents she gave away..."_

"_They made my counterpart..."_

"_Inside...eat...en..."_

His voice faded, though they were already labored breaths, Tewny not paying any mind to what he said, but still repeated it all out loud for Rarth to hear.

"Interesting."

Such a blunt response, but it was all that was needed to be said. Both sheathing their blood-stained swords, Rarth approached the bloodied mess slumped on the now bloody tree, as well. He examined the figure for a while, before noticing the small writing on the texture's hand.

"_WARIO COUNTERPART" _was written in bold, black letters on the palm of the dirtied-with-blood-and-sweat hand. He thought for a moment of how that meant that he had been given a chance to live in the Brawl Mansion.

_'Lucky bastard...' _He muttered under his breath as he kicked a bit of blood-stained earth at the body.

The Brawl Mansion, also known as the Smash Mansion in some places, was where the original characters they followed orders by lived. Life there was like royalty, in fact, some living there WERE royalty. He touched his replica crown on his head, reminding himself that he was supposed to be a counterpart as well, but woke up one day in the Alternate World.

As a counterpart, textures could live side by side with their original selves as well as other originals, and textures that were famous enough because of Machinimas would give away their signed photos of themselves every once in a while.

Rarth was lost in his own thoughts, as Tewny continued to prod at the corpse with his finger, licking the red substance once in a while. He scowled at the taste, and walked over to Rarth, who was still reminiscing about his past. Tewny tugged at the end of his tunic, before tugging at his cape, Rarth not even budging, until the yells of "Another 36th texture came out! No, actually, there's a 37th!" became loud and clear.

Grumbling, he started to walk out the same way he came in the forest. He took one more look at the mess on the tree and ground, before muttering something to Tewny.

"Leave the next two to the others. We're the only night-killers, anyways."

Meanwhile, in another part of the Alternate World, two pairs of textures were already on the chase to kill the two newcomers.


	3. So You Think You're A Villain?

**A/N : I'm trying so hard to practice writing chapters with more words in it. I hope it can be more noticeable that it's lengthening a little more than it used to be. I make absolutely no promises that it is longer, though. I still do not own the original characters that my textures are supposed to represent. Textures, the Alternate World, and the plotline are the only things that are considered mine. Don't forget that this story ties in with my cousin DarkIceClaws' fanfic, TrickandTreat. **

**Last but definitely not least, I'd like to ask that all of the viewers please rate and review, so I know what to fix. Do NOT flame me or my cousin for killing characters with more or less pain, as someone either in real life or on requested it anyways. The way characters die are only meant to give you a scare, and are thought of by us two writers. Also, if you would like to request the next character or characters to die, please head those comments or personal messages to DarkIceClaws. Warning, this chapter includes blood, excessive bad language, and can possibly make you psychologically feel what the characters portrayed here will be feeling. Thank you, and please enjoy for either your own sadistic pleasures, or for some other personal reason.**

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**Chapter Three : So You Think You're A Villain?**

"You should give up now, as you obviously don't stand a chance against the two of us, Bowser. Maybe I might even pull a few strings for you... just because it'll be fun ruining you. If you can beat all of us, we'll take you in as the thirty-sixth resident here in the Alternate World, even if you'll only be fighting two. You better accept this deal, as it's your only chance of escaping this room with a beating heart."

The texture's voice lingered through the auditorium, echoing for longer than a minute, and causing vibrations to shake the feet of all the textures inside of the space. Attempting to bargain with a beast like Bowser was going to be harder than the duo thought, as he did nothing but stick his head up, curl his short arms, and roar at the swinging light above his head. Maybe it was annoying the turtle, as the light that came from it swirled around the floor distractingly, as if it were set up to do that.

The auditorium was basically a room large enough to hold five orchestras, maybe even a band as well. There were no chairs or tables anywhere, neither were there any bleachers like in typical auditoriums. The area was empty, except for the single dangling lamp that held a flourescent lightbulb, thoroughly lighting up the place, even if it was just a little larger than medium in size.

Waxed wood laminated tiles covering the floor made the auditorium much glossier than it was supposed to be. The ceiling was about 40 meters from the floor, leaving much room to jump around and even more room to become a make-due battlefield for the textures inside. The air conditioning must've died, as the temperature of the auditorium was about 85 degrees. That didn't matter though, as only the Bowser could feel the climate change.

Bowser was wearing the white tuxedo he wore at his "wedding" with Princess Peach in Super Paper Mario. It was pure snow white, with a large bow touching the bottom of his chin, and a few opened buttons revealing yet another white shirt underneath his tuxedo. His sleeves stopped at the right spots, right before his hand was covered in the fabric. His shirt went down to cover his whole upper body, but stopped right at his legs.

A small amount of white flowers with yellow cores were stuck onto the right side of his outfit, a few green leaves sticking under his armpit. While he looked somewhat normal enough for a real, unbrainwashed wedding, he still would have looked much more proper with matching white pants or anything else to cover his lower half, rather than scarring eyes. He glanced at the two in front of him, eyeing them completely.

What he thought to be Ike was actually supposed to be representing someone in the anime world. His once blue hair had now become red, and covered his beloved bandana which was cut down to nothing hanging after getting tied. His tunic had now become white, the ends of the shoulders no longer ripped, and the belts once around him were now taken off. Ike's cape were now blue, and had a golden yellow one winged eagle wing imprinted on it, shining even without the light focusing on leggings now looked like white pants that were tucked into his brown boots. Both his boots and gloves had remained the leather-brown color that they had on the real Ike. His eyes would have been the same color, had the sapphire orbs not turned into a light blue topaz color. Ragnell was now completely golden, including the hilt. This, was Battler Ushiromiya.

What Bowser didn't understand, was why "Ike" decided to say that there were two of them against him, when clearly there was only those two in the whole area. The second person mentioned was actually waiting on the ceiling, hidden completely in the shadows.

Her outfit was no more than a short pink scarf with a few red stripes that covered her neck and part of her now larger cleavage. Her chest was covered with a skinny-strap black bra with red flames crawling upwards to the top of the bra. She was wearing black shorts, which looked more like black panties, that had a white belt going through the top, studded with clear shining gems that would gleam only when noticed. A little higher than her knees, pink stockings went all the way down until they were tucked into her red heels. Her scarlet red hair was tied up into a ponytail, with a few locks of hair dipping down, and a skull clip on the left side. She wore a short black glove with studs on her right hand, and a longer black glove that went up a bit below her shoulders, also studded. This, was Yoko.

The turtle clad in white prepared himself for the tough fight that he was hoping to win, getting into a defensive stance that looked somewhat offensive to the Battler-look-a-like in front of him. Little did he know that Peach-turned-Yoko was slowly floating downwards with her parasol behind him, a large gun strapped onto her back. As Ike continued the staredown with the villain in front of him, he was actually making Bowser stay in one spot for his partner to be able to strike him down from behind in a surprise attack.

Heels quietly making contact onto the floor, Peach unstrapped her gun, pointing the unusually large AK-47 at the turtle's head, telling him to freeze. His eyes widened, but he did not want to give up so easily. He whirled around, in time for Peach to shoot the gun right into his shoulder. Ike ran up behind him, raising his sword and hitting Bowser directly on the head, knocking him unconscious.

Ganondorf, who was hiding like a pussy in the corner of the auditorium, watched with horror as the no longer conscious turtle was dragged off by Peach by his tail. The king couldn't help but feel out of place regarding his outfit, as there was no difference in his clothing, rather than it being tinted grey, as well as his skin and hair. Watching as the Ike walked off into another direction, he looked over at Bowser, who had been tied up already.

He glanced at the excessive amount of rope that was left over on the floor next to Bowser's knotted arms, wondering why they had brought too much rope with them. Or rather, why they brought rope with them at all, unless they were planning on doing something that he'd want to run away from-

_WHACK_

The King of Evil awoke to the sound of Bowser's terrified shrieks, mixed in with roars and groans that seemed to be muffled by something. He couldn't really see anything though, as he found that he was blindfolded, and his hands and feet had been tied up like he had seen Bowser tied up before he was hit by-...liquid trickled down the back of his neck, and he noticed it only when it began to burn at his skin because of the increasing heat of the auditorium.

What used to be 80-ish degrees had turned into something around 90 degrees, and he did not like it at all. Maybe Bowser was used to it, because of all the times Mario had made him fall into magma during his own games. He wasn't exactly used to losing like that, he rather was impaled by the Master Sword, many times, and to be honest, it started to not hurt after the third time he was defeated. Though he put on quite a show with his reaction to getting stabbed by the Master Sword last time in Twilight Princess, he did it for Link's sadistic fun(and bribe).

He instantly pushed those thoughts away, as the blindfold was removed, and he was able to sort out the colors of everything he was seeing. First a blurry red mess, he then focused his eyes to see a horrific sight. Bowser's bloody head, though not damaged in any way, was on a plate a mere three feet away from him, carrots on the side, pearl-white horns removed. His green shell was on another larger plate, or rather, tray, right next to the decapitated head.

His grey eyes trailed to catch a view of what Peach was eating, as she turned around with a bloodied face and a cold smile dripping crimson. In her hands were more pieces of Bowser, his spike-removed tail and one of his arms, complete with claws, both dripping from the spots where the ends should have been connected to the overgrown turtle.

"Well, hello, Ganondorf's look-a-like." A voice that sounded oddly familiar came into his slightly-deaf ears, interpreting the voice to be from none other than the Hero of Time's.

He looked exactly the same as him, with a grey tint, making him feel somewhat comfortable, except for the dark red eyes that glinted when he looked at them. Beside him, was a tray of random instruments, something he'd call instruments of torture. By that, he meant knives, daggers, scalpels, swords of different sizes, colors, blades, and appearances, liquids that were probably poisons in bottles, and...

_bandages_? The grey Ganondorf questioned the person above him about the bandages, completely forgetting that he was in a bad situation to even talk to someone who looked as though he were going to rip him to shreds, right then and there.

With a "Hmph", the Link replied, before turning sideways to let the lying figure see what was happening behind him.

Ike was busy spooning Bowser's left eye out with too much force, as the blood kept spraying in every direction. Some sprayed onto Peach and Link, who licked it deliciously, while the blood that sprayed onto him made him gag in disgust and fear of the type of cannibalism going on. The greyscale Link threw an imitation of the Ragnell, but much smaller, at the right eye of Bowser, which caused even more scarlet liquids to soar into the air and land everywhere.

The floor seemed to soak it up, seeing as how no puddles of blood remained, only red-stained tiles of imitation wood. Yoko-Peach's bloody hair couldn't look any more bloody, seeing as the red was matching perfectly into her own "naturally" red hair; same went for Battler-Ike's head of red hair, though blood still stained his white tunic.

Getting into his counterpart's enemy's face once again, Link proceded to grab something from the tray beside him. Texture 37, Ganondorf, saw this coming. He knew he wasn't going to walk out alive, but he wished he could have done something more than hiding. Bowser, his villain-"friend" had at least tried to stick up for himself, while he did nothing but cower. He almost felt like laughing to himself, as he saw the hatchet in the Link's hand raise up high over the figure's stomach.

Closing his eyes tightly as he waited for the painful blow, he reopened them to see the blade inside of him, but no pain. He thought he was seriously going crazy, if something like a cleaver strike didn't hurt him, then he was probably already dead. Realization that he probably had anesthesia injected into him made him suddenly panic.

_"Oh sweet Zora! The sadistic bastard's going to do this while I'm fully conscious!" _The grayscale Ganondorf thought in his mind as his heart skipped a beat. The cleaver trailed upwards slowly, tearing both his armor, his undershirt, and his skin, but not laying any pressure as to not cut the skin drastically. With each grunt and groan from the thought of such sick torture, the Ganondorf lay with widened eyes as his outfit was ruined completely, opened to reveal his upper body, and getting a perfect view of his gray-skinned chest and stomach that the Link before him was tracing with the cleaver in such a teasing manner.

The malicious grin on Link's face would've looked much more normal, had it not been one that showed his longer fangs that seemed to look sharper, or maybe it was just Ganondorf's imagination.

"Say Ganon... I'm sure you have all the memory that your counterpart has. How's he doing up in the Smash Mansion? I bet he's doing well, not having to stay in this hellhole of a world," the Link said, putting emphasis on 'hellhole', and pressing the cleaver's blade enough to pierce Ganondorf's skin but no more than that. Ganondorf, on the otherhand, was much too busy thinking about the problems that would occur if the anesthesia's effect died down when Link got down to the real painful things, and thought of enraging Link and making him kill him then and there rather than bear any pain. He had completely ignored Link's question, and the deepening cut that the cleaver caused wasn't bringing him back to reality as he did not feel a single amount of pain in his whole body.

"You really should answer once in a while, you shithead."

The insult snapped Ganondorf into reality, as he suddenly struggled against the rope that binded him to the titanium rings on the floor that had looked clean before Bowser's blood tainted it. Speaking of which, Ike, Peach, whatever was left of Bowser was gone, the only thing left was the blood on the floor that eventually turned into puddles, regardless that the blood should have dried a long time ago. Looking downwards to what the Link could have been doing seriously caught him off-guard, as he was barely able to hold in his yelp of shock at the sight in front of him. He thought Bowser had suffered worse, but he wouldn't know for sure as he was unconscious during the whole thing, probably because of Link hitting him with something.

Ganondorf's view was practically of his own stomach being pulled upwards, but not ripping the thing out, in front of his eyes. Link dropped it back into the bloody pool of flesh and grey skin as he reached a little higher up, past the various amount of muscles and slight body fat to Ganondorf's heart. Throwing the cleaver off to the side, he grasped the grey heart, oozing blood, in both hands, almost playfully squeezing it.

Ganondorf decided he didn't want to see this, if that was what the Link before him was planning on doing to him as torture, if he wasn't going to be able to feel any of the pain. He had already felt nauseous from seeing his intestines being pulled but returned, and the squishing hands clamping on his heart was making his breathing turn from gasps back to normal breaths with each squeeze.

Dropping the toy-like heart, Link removed his blood-stained grey gloves, grabbing another tool from the tray beside him. This time, it was a large dagger, blade warm, though the temperature in the auditorium had dropped to 78 degrees; Ike was obviously playing with the thermometer outside of the auditorium, he thought. He held the blade to the Ganondorf's liver, pulling it out strategically to make sure that the man didn't die, and placed it on a new tray that Peach had just wheeled in, bloody marks on the handlebars of the cart-tray.

Carefully pulling out all of the things from Ganondorf that Link could think of that wouldn't make him die, he finally grew bored, throwing the dagger off behind him, sticking to one wall of the auditorium. Bloodied hands wanting to be washed immediately, he decided to let Ganondorf die by himself.

Grabbing his dirtied gloves, he glanced at the sleeping Ganondorf beside him. He smirked inwardly, before lifting his hand over to the timer beside Ganondorf. It read 1 minute, causing Link to grin largely. Link cracked his knuckles before taking the keys for the auditorium in his left hand, and started walking towards the exit of the place. He flicked off the lights on his way out the door, before closing the door and locking it.

Advancing towards his texture friends, he laughed maniacally with them as the timer that signified the anesthesia losing its effect rang loudly, and the faint screams, groans, and sounds of struggling against his binds were heard.

Newly washed hands, black gloves, hung onto his ear as he proceeded to move the mic down lower to his mouth. One could say that it looked much like a modern bluetooth system in real life, aside from the fact that it was a holographic, but fully functioning, device.

"Yo Zero. You're going against the next texture. Arrives tomorrow, so get a partner and prepare yourselves."

* * *

**Did it get longer? Pl0x? R&R! D:**


	4. Hungry, Your Highness?

**Quick A/N :**

**Hey reader, what does the scouter say about this chapter's length meter?**

**IT'S OVER _FOUR THOUSAND _WORDS!**

**Oh well-it's a big amount for -me-. Anyways, to all of those who have actually been waiting for this chapter, _a favorite and/or a review would honestly be a good inspirational and motivational boost for me._**

**Credit for this chapter is as follows :**

**BrawlVault for the idea of a Cookie Monster King DeDeDe.**

**Wikipedia for the help on medication information.**

**Enjoy.**

**(PFFF. NO FIFTH CHAPTER TIL' THIS GETS 8+ REVIEWS.)  
**

**Chapter Four : Hungry, Your Highness? [ALTERNATELY TITLED : Breaking Away (from TrickandTreat)]**

"A partner?" The perpetual midget whined. That was a stupid suggestion. Why would someone as foolproof as himself alone be in need of a partner? I mean, seriously, did he _look _like bully fodder in the Alternate World? I think not. _Just LOOK at this skin, so not weak looking! _He had a point. Regardless if his usual outfit with dual-colored stripes was still the same, as well as the colors, a few tweaks on his hair had been made. Zero himself didn't get it—what _was _he supposed to be? Or who? His hair had been lightly gelled to make the usual "w" puff of hair at the front look more like the uncalled-for spiky hair parts on Cloud's head, and that made him question his appearance even more. Was it completely meant for someone's OC or something less stupid than that?

"You'll be bringing moi with you, ri~ght?"

Zero was interrupted in his thoughts, looking up, and glaring with an incredulous look at his once just-friend, "Lucas", which was now plainly "Luka" due to his... awkward appearance. Bringing someone like him... or her... or whatever the kid was with him on an assassination would not only smear his reputation of being a loner, but make him feel extremely embarrassed to be even around Luka. He stopped glaring, his green-eyed gaze dropping to the floor. He facepalmed.

"With you looking like that?"

"I...I can't do anything about it..."

"Cut. Your. Hair." Each word was sounded out slowly, pausing at every word.

"Well, the Machinima rules currently state that it can't be done without proper equipment taken or given directly from the creator of myself and this body and-"

"Hide your chest," Zero smirked, rubbing his nose similarly to Knuckle Joe. "It'll be a distraction. And not a good one."

Luka's rear end-long blonde hair was quickly pushed to the front, successfully covering both his or her chest up, as well as most of the lower body that was sure to be target to Zero if nothing was done. Body untouched aside from longer hair and feminine shapes, Luka couldn't help but wonder if his or her creator was even _straight_, though the kid did question his own sexual preferences as well. The usual long shirt worn was now rising upwards due to the now intruding lumps of... yeah, you should get it by now. Oddly a good size for the kid's age.

"Um. Now can I come with you?" blush hidden without a trace, Luka asked again, less seductively than the last time.

Zero stood up, turned his cap to the front to cover his face, which was supposed to be covering the sun, if there was any. They had been sitting inside of a box near the NZ, which was the New Zone. A weird, large box. Snake's Love Box might've been given a run for its money, thanks to the freaking largeness of said box. Oh, this sucks. If morning hadn't come yet by the time the box was tipped over, they'd surely go crazy. In fact, one more thing could drive the two crazy. Oxygen.

There was oxygen around that area, which was strange. No matter how it turns out, anyone who went to the Alternate World was supposed to become non-breathers. But for some reason, the balance of the AW had been weighed down due to the excessively high amount of unwanted textures lately. That did mean something good, however, as now, death sentences including breathing problems could be added to everyone's list of how to kill. Even if they were supposed to just do a quick and painless death, as ordered by whoever ruled the AW, why couldn't they have just a little bit of fun? Who was to say they wouldn't get dethroned eventually and overcome by a better texture than themselves? They should at least have fun while they can.

"Fine," Zero huffed. "Let's just get this over with."

"Yay!" Luka erupted from the box, tipping over most of it onto Zero.

The crossdresser looked at the boy, pulling the box off and scratching his head awkwardly in a way to say sorry wordlessly. It obviously didn't work, however, as Zero continued to kick the box even further away with a single motion. The beige box flew into a patch of grass, leaving a dash of naked earth where it had slid across. Satisfied with Luka's winces and sad looks at the trampled flowers and herbs that could have been medication, Zero stood back up.

"Looks like the newbie's here."

"Oh, where!"

"Look in front of you, dope." Zero mentally cursed himself. _Who the hell says 'dope' anymore..._

Luka stared at the unrecognizable figure on the floor which had just arrived there after a series of blinding lights occurring while he was staring at the grass. Truly, it wasn't something you could know was a person, let alone a brawler due to the way it was crouched into itself. The figure folded out slowly, before retracting again, resembling something like a baby still in the womb.

"Is that triple D?" The coal-haired kid examined the brawler on the floor carefully, sweeping up the figure from... cap to... shoe.

The other did the same, eyes in a composed stare at the protruding belly that showed itself only barely as the whole body was a single color, or rather, mixture of two colors. A deep shade of blue, slightly darker in shadowy areas, eyelids as well, as Luka couldn't help but wonder if the eyes were the same color. He couldn't think who it was supposed to be, even if the once King's mouth was open slightly, black completely inside. Then it clicked, it was-

"The cookie monster!" Luka quickly stated, pointing a finger at the figure as well, as if it were a cockroach in a kitchen.

Twisting his hat the other way, Zero nodded. "That guy from Sebastian Street, or something like that? I'm sure it was a street, though."

Proud to be correct and know that his buddy wasn't, Luka held his chin up high, arms in a greater-than sign. His hands were in a fist, placed lightly on his hips as he corrected his partner. "Sesame Street, nii."

"You would know..." the other mumbled incoherently, before fading his embarrassing blush away and noticing the newbie's eyes slowly open.

They revealed what Luka had thought of; pupils a dark black, white around, enlarged to match the size of its body. The darker-haired boy stood behind the "cookie monster" as he slowly stretched his hands out to push himself upwards. As he got into a sitting position, Zero pulled out the small gun out of his hat pocket, putting his hat back on, afterwards. He grabbed the gun by its nozzle, before whacking the newcomer on his shoulder. He immediately fell to the floor, face flat, small groan residing from the back of his throat.

"Luka, you mind knocking the guy out? I'm positive you have your bat with you."

"One sec~" He dug in his pocket, tongue sticking out to the side.

A gun was pulled out, retro colored; shoved back in. Dirty pair of socks, blue and red and smelling worse than rotten eggs and cheese; shoved back in. Gooey chocolate; wiped back in after realization of what it was. Green necklace pulled out, colors beginning to dull as who knows how long that's been there; returned.

"Sorry."

He checked his other pocket, pulling out something different. A small stick, the size of Harry Houdini's playing cards. "Found it."

Luka lightly tapped the confused figure on the floor with the stick on his head. It fell over, dully.

"Next, then."

The two slowly picked up the heavy object, not being the least careful about where they were pulling. Zero led the way north, holding the unconscious figure by his shoes, which were now fur. Luka followed suit, carrying arms, forcing himself not to stare at the still-open eyes of the dead weight being carried. Oddly enough, it didn't weigh as much as he thought it would, but then again-

"Can you carry some of your own weight?"

Luka gained some more weight to carry, though the rest of the trip to wherever Zero was leading them towards was silent. The distance walked probably was around no more than two or three miles, and the blonde had noticed how the grass seemed to die as they walked further. The four mile mark was passed, as the lower half of the body was sagged down to open a large door of rusted grey, proceeding in shortly after.

The body was dropped to a rather comfortable chair, star yellow with scarlet cushions which wasn't what you'd think was the beginning of a "monster"'s demise. He woke up almost instantaneously, yet his vision still blurring making everything almost completely indecipherable. The blue figure let loose a distorted sound to stretch, soon noticing where he was, eyes looking all over the new area. Luka and Zero sat quietly in a corner of the room, unseen, as the once-penguin even looked at the ceiling to see the bright lights.

Small chandelier glowing with the light the same color fireflies gave off, as well as a dome ceiling, rising up to where Dedede could only see was pitch black. The walls around him were painted a beige color, small tan diamond shapes were in a single file line around the edges of the wall, leaving quite a distractingly good pattern. The room was completely empty, aside from the chair he sat in.

The legs of the chair were chained to the legs of the table, preventing him from scooting farther or closer, as if though his seat position was already perfect. A rope winded itself around his thighs twice, keeping him on the chair, not even budging as he attempted to itch his lower knee. In front of him was a short table, spanning from maybe 5 by 7 feet, made out of wood, but the upper layer was covered with smoothly shaped glass. It seemed like the glass that could be used as the glass for church windowsills, due to the extraordinary peachy colored tint—maybe it was. Seeing as though he didn't know where he was; could he possibly be in a church, with weird decorations?

Also, why was there such a goblet in front of him? A golden goblet, skinny in the middle, fatter higher. Red jewels carefully were put around the side of the cup, along with twinkling diamond-like jewels. Inside was about three-fourth of the cup of water, fizzing from the center, where a small white pill was barely noticeable. The pill was already being broken down by the water or whatever clear liquid it was when the Sesame Street monster saw the folded piece of paper trapped underneath. He stared at it for a while with an unconcerned look before picking it up with his hand and opening it.

_Dear DeDeDe,_

_ You've probably just woken up. You currently reside in your previous homestead, or rather, castle. As you can see, we've made very many changes, so you may not have thought of this as your castle at first sight. Realize though, those changes made this newly created and designed dining room much prettier than what it was before- an unused, dusty old room._

_ By now, you've hopefully already noticed that you are unable to move your legs as they are tied firmly to the chair you currently are sitting on. Do you like it; it's a combination of silk and Waddle Dee and Waddle Doo skin._

He put the letter down, eyes widened. He closed them, reopening them to reveal much less stressed eyes, as he continued to read the contents of the paper. The penguin hoped not to read anything else that may distress him anymore than he was a few seconds ago.

_-you probably put this down to feel the cushion once more. Back to the situation, cookie monster. _

_ At this moment, you should begin to feel hungry. If not, it will occur very soon. You are questionable, of course. While you were knocked out cold, you were forced to ingest a drug that will cause you to receive the "munchies," which name will not ring a bell to you. _

_ The drug is more or less a medication, abused to cause hallucinations and for pleasure; marijuana. You have ingested as much as you can, without getting overdosed and causing death. The bad news is, you will hallucinate. You will be high. You will be hungry. You may be wondering why this piece of paper was found under a golden goblet. Allow this explanation to clear your mind. _

_ The small white pill that is inside the goblet contains 2000 milligrams of Vitamin C, which destroys toxins stored in your cells, as well as being 80% niacin to speed up your metabolism. The water around the pill will slowly dissolve it, giving you enough time to grab the pill and cure yourself. If it is too late, as in the goblet's contents are no more than a fizzy liquid, then please, enjoy the meal. It certainly will be the best._

_ Regards,_

_ Luka Oddresser_

_ Zero The Kid_

Dedede didn't understand it. Just reading the letter had wasted so much time, by the time he looked at the goblet again, the last of the pill had already dissolved. This was obviously an unfair game. Because it was a type of game, it meant no real harm. This was actually much of a rude game, tying him up like so. Even if he was a king from one of the most unknown lands, he was still a _King_, and deserved much better treatment like this; even if he was a _copy_ of the real King Dedede. Then again, look at him, he looked nothing like a king. He didn't even seem fit to be a shoe cleaner in a kingdom because of his appearance and dirtied "fur" especially-

He was cut off by the sound of strong grumbling followed by the weak pain in his stomach, his gastric acids sloshing his stomach silly with hunger. Dedede looked surprised, but then shook it off as he thought that maybe he was just hungry because of his time asleep, and there was certainly no food at all... which made it a bad situation.

"Did you want any sauce with your barbecue?" Luka asked, now in a casual outfit of a orange spaghetti bra and a matching, frilly underwear. A ribbon was tied tightly around his back, the ribbon lace covering his feminine rear end. He was carefully balancing a silver platter on both hands, one platter with a single plate with ten sticks of barbecue. The other platter was tightly hugged to his side, not carrying anything at the moment.

"Would you like your beverage to be changed into something less... murky white?" another voice spoke from behind Dedede, catching sight of a boy with a black and white cap turned so the sun would be blocked on his neck. His outfit was a plain black tuxedo, red undershirt, and another silver platter tucked underneath his right side like the other. Zero kept on a plastic smile, asking without hinting the disgust he felt as the penguin drooled subconsciously while glancing back to see if Luka's barbecue still looked fresh.

Dedede could care less what was going on, as long as he got what he wanted; food. And better yet, the food seemed to look fancy, not the uncool and lesser _placed_ food that could be thrown onto a plate like an insensitive frycook. He licked his lips, gesturing for both to come closer and bring him what they've got, while Zero bowed and left to retrieve a glass of water. He cocked his head to the left as he passed by Luka, reminding him to add another barbecue onto the plate.

Dropping the plate of barbecue falsely on purpose, Luka apologized, following suit after Zero to get another plate of roasted beef strips on a stick. He made sure to add an extra five pieces of barbeque, before scurrying out of the shadowy darkness with another platter to give the cookie monster-turned-carnivore. Luka put the plate carefully in front of him, Zero placing a casual glass of water with four clear cubes of ice exactly. Dedede's eyes trailed to look down Luka's bra, but hunger took over, and he grabbed two sticks with each hand, shoving them literally down his throat. Most would say it should have lightly pierced his throat when doing so, but it didn't, and he continued to grab the rest of the sticks while putting the emptied sticks on the side of the plate.

He didn't even have the urge to swallow, his unseen teeth unused until the barbecue ran out, and his water chugged down, leaving nothing but ice cubes. Luka left to get another platter of food from the shadows which Zero had left food, but rather explained that it was a kitchen to the penguin. As Luka returned, three plates with four sea cods(with salt, pepper, and a large cilantro leaf draped across each cod) in each plate sat on his silver platter as he tagged Zero to get the refreshments.

Zero came back with a larger glass of water, this time probably a holding a pint and a half more liquid than the last glass did. The amount of ice cubes turned to three, one probably melting in the time it took to get more to the water fountain. He placed it on the same area he put it on last time, as he stood to accompany Luka with watching Dedede eat the food being served. The blue furry was currently on his second plate, with only one more filleted fish on the plate, fork through it, when he suddenly stopped.

The urge to stop eating was high, his jaw was constantly opening and closing. Drinking water began to feel odd, as each gulp could be felt reverberating through his stomach. He shrugged, cleanly finishing both plates, before giving Luka a dirty stare.

"Well, girlie? What's gon' be the next meal?" His googly eyes flicked around once, making Zero stifle a laugh.

Luka was slightly pissed at the way he decided to ask for more food, but decided that he was going to get it in a few moments. He turned heel and almost immediately returned with a plate of ice cream, towering above him by at least ten feet in height _and _width. He presented the large sundae of vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry ice cream to the penguin while being flashy by throwing a chocolate syrup bottle at Zero, who barely caught it. He squeezed it, letting the syrup fly onto the middle and lower layers of ice cream and drizzling down to the bowl-shaped platter.

The coal-haired kid placed a white gloved hand on the liter glass, picking it up and replacing it with a gallon of water. _Surely this should be enough_, he stated.

Luka looked at him, raising a thumbs up as he replied. _If he can finish this ice cream, it'll be a miracle if he doesn't die a millisecond after. _PSI abilities truly were a gift, of course, and the two had realized this much before.

Though, it was true. The king may have a large stomach, but unlike Kirby, and _reality_, people, let alone animals, should not be able to contain so much in their stomach. With the amount of food already ingested, the ability to eat any more than ten or less of the scoops of ice cream in front of him should be more than enough for him to feel sick to the stomach. But no, he continued to eat, mind absent and thinking about *** with Luka— as the lining of his stomach slowly began to tear.

One more scoop, it ripped a small amount. Yet another scoop, another thin layer of his stomach ripped. A final scoop, it continued to tear, and he dropped his large spoon. Insides of his stomach, undigested food, trailed out and into his other insides. Bacteria flooded in and out of his stomach and into or out of the abdominal sections, invading and causing almost instant death—which would have been fine, if it weren't painful. Maybe even if he hadn't felt the strong sour taste threatening to rise, stomach acids, it would be that much more a peaceful death. But no, the next taste to reach his tongue was metallic, crimson drops, before it returned to sweet again as he fell, face first, into the mountain of ice cream in front of him.

The kids high fived, as Zero, afterwards, pulled out his ear mic out of his pocket, connecting it to the outer shell of his ear and bringing the mic low to his mouth. Even if it was a little too big, it still did come just a little bit over his upper lip, which wasn't much of a big deal. When the static _beep _went on, he pushed the Talk button, allowing the other side to hear his voice.

"Zero and Luka-_csh- _beat the _-csh- _cookie monster textu _-csh- _-re... he's actually King Dedede's counterpart_ -csh-_" The microphone was pulled down lower, the Talk button unpushed.

"Luka, do you mind?"

The other boy's piercing glare made Luka stop making sound effects that effectively sounded like static over the microphones. He puffed out his cheeks, before beginning to untie the rope that bound the "cookie monster" to his death seat.

"As I was saying," Zero continued, arms extended to pull the limp body up against the chair as Luka proceeded to take the giant sundae away. "He was dressed as the Cookie Monster from Sesame Street. He's eaten himself to death, so we'll be busy cleaning up around here."

Luka picked up the key from the floor, unlocking both chains from the king's left and right feet, a red, swelling ring around the rather fat feet. He removed the chains, throwing it off to the side along with the rope and key, the weight of the iron chains making his throw fly a little less than as he did with the rope. He unpuffed his cheeks as he handed Zero's original clothing to him, while putting on his own. Luka had to admit—he did look pretty good in a two piece, just as Zero had suggested.

Wait. Why did he suggest that anyways?

Whatever.

"Whoever wants the next target, the _**trainer and his Pokemon companions**_, can call dibs on it," he put his shirt on, about to add on something to his sentence, when Luka ripped the set off of him, putting it on himself. "Because we're tired~" With that, the set was put into his pocket, and he took one last look at the corpse with Zero.

Sitting almost casually, he'd look like he died peacefully, but they'd know that was far from true, far from true indeed. Luka grinned, tackle hugging Zero and rolling around on each other playfully, Zero going along with it.

"Awesome! We get to do absolutely nothing tomorrow!"

Silence.

"Wait... that sounds off."


End file.
